


remember your virtue

by sinningpumpkin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningpumpkin/pseuds/sinningpumpkin
Summary: This has to be some sort of divine punishment, Oikawa decides. The injury and the deadend job aren’t enough to make up for whatever terrible thing he did in his past life, no, apparently he also deserves to be reunited with his one humiliating high school crush, three years past his peak.~Or, Oikawa and Kageyama run into each other after graduating.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 9
Kudos: 119





	remember your virtue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ascinde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascinde/gifts).



> WARNINGS: oikawa is trans masc in this fic and he bottoms for kageyama. his junk is described with a mix of amab and afab words. 
> 
> NOTES: i literally dont know anything abt the end of haikyuu so this could be perfectly canon compliant or a full on au, i have no idea. all that matters is that theyre older and oikawa is sad. 
> 
> LASTLY: ily asi i hope you enjoy this

Oikawa has mastered the art of becoming fuckable after work. He’s never had to try particularly hard in this regard, but shucking the tired salaryman look took practice. First, he combs the gel out of his hair with his fingers, returning it to it’s normal adorably messy look. His face is always fuckable, so then the next trial are the clothes. He could keep a change in his car, but that wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Instead, he shucks his work blazer and brown belt, rolls his sleeves up over his elbows and makes sure that his shirt isn’t tucked too tightly into his slacks.

It isn’t perfect. But it gets him laid.

Once and awhile, when he’s doing this ritual in the parking lot of a dive bar at the edge of the city, he’s hit with a crushing wave of dread. Four years out of high school and the only thing he’s done is sustain a terrible injury, work a mid-level investment job, and perfect his ability to get fucked while still wearing a suit. 

Most of the time, he’s fine.

Hair mussed, sleeves rolled and belt abandoned, he steps out of his car and walks into the squat, dirty bar that he frequents. Even on Friday nights it’s usually pretty quiet, but as the door swings shut behind him he’s met with a solid wall of noise.

In the corner of the bar, a group of guys have pushed three of the tables together and are shouting cheers with every sip they take. Oikawa frowns. From the brightly colored jackets slung over the backs of their chairs, the broad shoulders, and the general cheer, he figures they’re some sort of team. Probably celebrating a win.

His mood sours so completely he thinks about turning around and leaving all together. “Hey, your drink is ready.” The bar is empty, and the nice girl that always serves him is standing there, waiting for him to sit down. Maybe a drink or two, and then he’ll leave.

He tries to smooth the line of his mouth as he sits in front of his drink, but from the way that she looks at him, he figures he hasn’t succeeded. He throws the fingers of whiskey back in one go and cringes as the group behind him shouts again. “I can kick them out, if you want.” She’s pretending to be busy, wiping the same few inches of the counter over and over again.

“Isn’t that bad for business?” The moment that Oikawa sets his glass down, she reaches over and pours him another few fingers.

“Do I look like the owner?” She shoots back. Oikawa likes her. She’s one of the reasons he keeps coming back, even if he doesn’t know her name.

He waves his hand. “It’s fine.” He sips on his second drink, steeling himself against the waves of sound at his back.

And that’s when he hears it. The voice that rises above the rest, not in volume but with an ice cold familiarity that drips down Oikawa’s spine. “Eh? Get off, idiot!” The words ring in Oikawa’s ears, in a voice he hasn’t heard in four years, but somehow he’s back in high school--watching his raven haired boy and that orange little idiot--

Oikawa abandons the gentle sips on his whiskey to knock it back once more, fighting every single urge he has to look over his shoulder, to try and find Kageyama in that team celebration. Four fucking years. Three without volleyball, and this is how they see each other again. Well, they haven’t seen each other yet. And from the rounded slur of Kageyama’s voice, maybe he’ll be too drunk to notice Oikawa at the bar. Maybe he won’t even be able to recognize him from the back.

Oikawa could. Oikawa had recognized his voice and the shape of his faked annoyance. Oikawa could recognize any part of his body, probably. He’d spent enough time studying it, and pretending not to, or trying to get himself not to think about his kouhai turned crush turned rival. He pushes his glass forward to ask for another drink. 

After so many years of successfully ignoring the urges he got around Kageyama, they are somehow together again. With Oikawa looking as fuckable as possible, well on his way to drunkenness, and thumbing through his phone for a hookup. This has to be some sort of divine punishment, Oikawa decides. The injury and the deadend job aren’t enough to make up for whatever terrible thing he did in his past life, no, apparently he also deserves to be reunited with his one humiliating high school crush, three years past his peak.

The booze sours in Oikawa’s stomach and he pulls out his phone. He texts three people from work and Iwa-chan simple ‘you free?’ texts that have a lot more weight when Oikawa sends them. Iwazumi replies with an equally simple ‘no’ which Oikawa probably should’ve expected. Iwa-chan is only in the mood to put up with him when they run into each other with plenty of alcohol and loud music.

He has to wait a little while longer to hear back from the guys at work. Two of them he’s sucked off in bar bathrooms after post-work drinks, but the third is a bit of a wildcard. Another drink later and all three of them similarly turn him down.

Oikawa figures that the night can’t get any worse. He can’t try to pick up some stranger with Kageyama sitting at his back, and all of his booty calls have been useless. His stomach is sour and he should be drunk, but somehow he has skipped right to being hung over.

Then, someone slides into the seat next to him, and Oikawa doesn’t have to turn his head to know that his night is about to get worse. “Hey,” Kageyama says. He’s dropped his voice, probably to try and sound sexier. He does sound sexy, but Oikawa is probably biased. “What’s your name?”

Oikawa bites his tongue. Of course, his idiot kouhai would hit on him without even knowing it's him. He twists his head to rip off the bandaid. Kageyama immediately spills his drink all over the bar. “Sen-senpai?”

Oikawa’s traitorous body most certainly does not heat at that name. “Don’t you think we’re a little old for that, kouhai?”

From the immediate, dark flush of Kageyama’s cheeks, maybe they aren’t too old after all. The bartender comes over and wipes up his mess. Oikawa thanks her while Kageyama just stares at him. At first it’s nice, and then his gut clenches with some weird feeling that he doesn’t want to think about. Instead he thinks about what Kageyama must be seeing. Where volleyball stars go to die, the ace fallen, a boy who could never become a real man--

“Wow,” Kageyama whispers. “Wow, Oikawa-san, it's so good to see you.”

Oikawa blinks. Kageyama sounds pleased. Like truly pleased, not defensive or annoyed. He’s staring right into Oikawa’s face with obvious excitement. He must’ve really grown up. Or maybe he’s just drunk. Oikawa hopes it's the latter. “Yeah. I guess it’s been a while, huh?”

And for some reason, that excitement doesn’t go away. Oikawa expects the novelty to wear off, for Kageyama to realize he was trying to flirt with the wrong person, to return to his rowdy team who probably only won because of him--but, Kageyama just grins and settles in next to him. He orders another drink, asks if Oikawa wants one, and Oikawa thinks he might be in the twilight zone.

With fresh drinks in front of them, and Kageyama still looking so deep into his face, Oikawa doesn’t think he’ll be able to escape. Even worse, he doesn’t know if he wants to anymore. “So…” Kageyama trails off. At least he still retained some of that high school awkwardness.

“You’re still playing,” is the first thing that comes out of Oikawa’s mouth and he bites his tongue so hard it bleeds.

Kageyama smiles. It’s small, but it's real, and Oikawa’s heart suddenly aches so acutely he thinks there’s something wrong with him. When did Kageyama stop being so tortured and actually start enjoying himself? When was the last time Oikawa saw him play? Or got to play against him? “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Oikawa can see how he seems to swell a little bit as he says it, like he’s bursting at the seams with things to say, but for some reason he holds back. Then he says, “You aren’t.”

Oikawa’s breath freezes in his throat.

Kageyama looks less pleased now. Oikawa might puke. “I saw when you got injured… It,” he sighs. Oikawa thinks he might slap him if he starts apologizing for something that no one had any control over. “It made me sad to know we probably wouldn’t play together again.”

“Against each other, you mean.” Oikawa’s tone is too hard, but Kageyama doesn’t seem to notice.

“Same difference.”

They lapse into silence, sipping on their drinks while Kageyama’s team shouts some other unintelligible toast.

Oikawa still doesn’t feel that drunk, but he must be, because the next time he opens his mouth he finds himself saying, “Were you going to take me home?”

Kageyama jolts. His face goes red. He stutters. He doesn’t say no.

When Oikawa stands, he can feel the rush of alcohol in his blood, making the room spin. It also makes him reach out and drag his hand down Kageyama’s arm, fingers hooking into the crook of his elbow. A single tug and Kageyama is on his feet, eyes shining and mouth parted. He keeps that starstruck look on his face as they leave the bar and get into Oikawa’s car.

Oikawa hasn’t felt this powerful since the last time he was on the court.

~

In all the many times Oikawa had imagined this moment, he didn’t expect Kageyama to be this forward. His scorching hands are up and under Oikawa’s shirt before he can even shut the door, his lips missing Oikawa’s mouth by a few inches and then pressing back in for a real kiss. There’s no embarrassment or fear, only a sweet sort of bumbling eagerness that doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. It’s electric. It’s embarrassing.

Oikawa lets himself be pushed up against his front door, fumbling blindly for the lock while his other hand reaches up to lace into Kageyama’s hair. He’s too tall. Oikawa forces him to hunch to keep the kiss and Kageyama just goes along with him, licking into his mouth and cupping his waist.

It’s embarrassing. Oikawa feels like he might crawl out of his skin if Kageyama keeps making these eager little noises and pushing his cock against Oikawa’s hip. He doesn’t seem to care, but Oikawa does, he’s never felt this overwhelmed in the midst of a kiss, this close to kicking someone out just because they want it so badly.

His thoughts are tangled and his cheeks are burning and somehow he isn’t fast enough to catch Kageyama’s wrist before his hand is between Oikawa’s thighs. Usually, he gets ahead of his partners and their wandering hands, explaining the scars under his pecs and the lack of bulge between his legs, but Kageyama is just too eager and overwhelming for him to manage.

The kiss breaks and Oikawa’s about to start his well rehearsed monologue about what is and isn’t okay when Kageyama’s fingers press hard against his clit through his slacks. “Please.” Kageyama’s voice is hoarse and Oikawa yanks hard on his hair. “Let me suck your cock, please--let me fuck you.” He says it all in one massive rush of air, eyes closed as his fingers probe between Oikawa’s legs. “I-I, fuck,” he laughs a little and Oikawa’s chest seizes. “I’ve wanted you for so long… please.”

Oikawa’s mouth tastes like bile as he shoves Kageyama away from him. He wishes that he was drunker, or that Kageyama’s words had been slurred or messy. They weren’t. But they are a lie. No one, not even his sweet kouhai could want this Oikawa. The Oikawa that barely went pro, who threw it all away on a return that he should’ve given to a teammate. Kageyama doesn’t want him. Kageyama wants an Oikawa that died years ago. 

This is not at all how Oikawa thought this would go.

He thinks about kicking Kageyama out for all of three seconds, before he pushes past him and toward his bedroom. Oikawa isn’t the same person that Kageyama remembers wanting, but maybe.. maybe he can still pretend. Oikawa starts unbuttoning his shirt as he looks over his shoulder at his kouhai. “Well?” He tries to say more, but the words get caught in his throat. 

Oikawa pushes into his bedroom as Kageyama follows him down the hallway. He makes quick work of his clothing and climbs into bed. He lays on his belly, pressing his hot face into the satin sheets as Kageyama stands behind him. Oikawa knows that he’s just staring and it takes him a while to get his breathing under control. “Get undressed,” Oikawa says, his voice still whispery and thin.

He listens to the rustle of Kageyama’s clothing and waits for it to fall silent before he turns over. Oikawa didn’t deserve to see anything that intimate.

The bed shifts and he opens his eyes to Kageyama peering up at him, lips quirked and hair sticking up at weird angles. Oikawa returns the soft smile without thinking and then bites his lip as Kageyama settles down between his thighs. Oikawa doesn’t even get a chance to look at his cock before it’s pressed against the mattress and out of sight.

Kageyama wedges his broad shoulders up between Oikawa’s legs. His cheek rests on the inside of his thigh, breath tickling at his cunt. Again, he’s just staring and Oikawa still feels that intense urge to hide or squirm away or rib at him until he gives up on pretending. Because once Kageyama really remembers who Oikawa is, there will be no sweetness, no staring, and certainly, no more adoration.

The thoughts shatter apart as Kageyama presses his mouth to Oikawa’s cunt. He bites hard at his bottom lip, silencing the warbling cries that threaten to break from his throat. He’s loud. He’s always been loud. But, if he can stay quiet for a little while longer, maybe Kageyama will keep touching him like he’s something precious. Thoughts tangle again--he doesn’t want to be precious, he doesn’t deserve to be, but the soft presses of Kageyama’s mouth, the gentle spread of his fingers between his labia--that feels good. It’s worth pretending for. 

Kageyama licks at his cunt until he’s dripping wet and sticky with spit. Oikawa thinks it’s due to inexperience, until his tongue curls deftly around his clit. His lips follow, pursing around the throbbing length and then sucking hard. Oikawa’s back bends, lip slipping from between his teeth and letting out all the noise that’s been building in him for minutes.

Kageyama sucks and laps at his cock, making all these filthy noises as Oikawa’s fingers slide back into his hair. He doesn’t protest, if anything he pleasures him with more intensity, fingers pushing once at his hole before sliding inside. There’s no hesitance in him, and Oikawa is glad for it. He bucks into the stretch of Kageyama’s callused fingers, tongue tripping around drawn out moans and babbled begging. It’s good, better than good.

He pulls back for a moment, thumb pushing against Oikawa’s cock as he fucks him open with his fingers, spreading them apart so he can feel the burn. “Yeah, yeah, just like that--you sound so good,” Kageyama murmurs. His voice is rough and low, but those words light something inside of Oikawa. He has a cold, creeping certainty that it’s something like a fuse.

Now that the noises are out, he can’t manage to suck them back in. He twists on the mattress and pulls on Kageyama’s hair, whining until he exchanges those silky words for putting his mouth around Oikawa’s cock again. He sucks and licks and pumps his fingers, and Oikawa has to wonder how often he’s done this with how quick he’s managing to work him to orgasm. He flicks his tongue against the tip of Oikawa’s cock and curls his fingers inside of him and Oikawa decides that Kageyama has a lot more experience than he first let on.

The fuse inside of him gets shorter.

“Fuck,” Kageyama says again. His lips vibrate against the slick swell of Oikawa’s clit and he whines, pulling hard on Kageyama’s hair and trying to get his mouth back where he wants it. “You taste so good.” More heat winds up through Oikawa’s belly and his thighs start to tremble against Kageyama’s ears. “You’re perfect,” Kageyama mumbles, twisting his fingers inside of him.

And Oikawa burns. He screams as he gushes around Kageyama’s fingers, vision going misty as his fingers flex against the back of his head. Kageyama works him through it and never once complains about Oikawa’s fingers tearing at his hair.

Oikawa shoves him away, cunt swollen and fingertips tingling. Sweat cools on his chest as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes are half closed, but he can still see the outline of Kageyama’s body as he sits back on his knees. Oikawa opens his eyes. His gaze comes back into focus and Kageyama is brought into sharp contrast.

His hand is curled around his cock, stroking himself with Oikawa’s cum still on his fingers. His cheeks are flushed, hair an even worse wreck than before. He kneels at the edge of the mattress, stroking himself in an easy rhythm, all while watching Oikawa. Watching Oikawa without contempt, without uncontrollable hunger or lust. But with a sweetness that Oikawa is not equipped for.

His chest seizes. His eyes narrow. And all at once, he realizes that his fuse has burned all the way down. Soon, Kageyama’s will burn down too. He’ll realize who he’s actually in bed with, and no amount of pretending could keep him around then. So, Oikawa doesn’t bother.

He twists his face into a scowl and watches Kageyama closely. He shuffles a bit closer, but that light is still in his eyes. Oikawa’s gut churns with nausea. The insult is easier to find than expected. “Still slow on the uptake, I see.”

Kageyama frowns. “What?”

He’s closer now, hands hooking around Oikawa’s knees to draw them up over his hips.

Oikawa’s skin tingles wherever they touch. He ignores the sensation and rolls his eyes. “Even now you still need me to guide you around, huh?” Kageyama is still pushing closer to him, settling down between his legs while watching Oikawa’s face. “Did you ever learn how to think for yourself? I thought you might’ve changed after--” Kageyama’s cock smears against the inside of his thigh. “I mean, it’s been so long, but looks like you’re still nothing without me. Or Hinata.”

For a second, Oikawa thinks he’s gotten him. That he’s cracked into his vulnerable center and finally revealed just how mean he can be. He’s always been mean, but now, there isn’t much else left of him. Kageyama’s head dips down and his face darkens. Oikawa has a few breathless seconds of waiting for Kageyama to take the bait, to fight or leave, he steels himself for the rejection he’s just led himself into--

And then, Kageyama lifts his head again. He’s wearing a sad sort of smile, and he just shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Senpai.” The words should be cutting, the start of a fight--but they aren’t. They’re light and careful and somehow knowing.

Somehow, in the process of trying to cut into where Kageyama is the most vulnerable, Oikawa has exposed himself to the one person who knows him best.

His breath is caught somewhere between his chest in his mouth. Kageyama folds himself down over him, his broad chest pressing against Oikawa’s, his lips at the edge of his jaw, as his hips push forward. The head of his cock rubs through Oikawa’s folds and he shivers. “Can I fuck you now?”

Oikawa twists his face away from him, but Kageyama’s lips follow, dragging from his jaw to the corner of his mouth with too much care. His breath washes across Oikawa’s lips and he finally croaks, “Yes.”

Kageyama pushes inside of him as he slots their mouths together. He catches Oikawa’s gasp with his tongue and their kiss devolves into something messy and slick as he pushes deeper. Oikawa feels every inch of Kageyama’s cock as it slides into him in one slow, slick push. Sweat beads at his brow as he sucks on Kageyama’s bottom lip, fingers tangling in the sheets as his cunt pulses and throbs.

It doesn’t get any less overwhelming when Kageyama’s hips press against his ass. If anything, it gets worse. The head of his cock rocks against Oikawa’s cervix, making him feel bloated and achy with the stretch. While Oikawa becomes less and less coordinated with each rock of his hips, Kageyama seems to only get more confident. He bites Oikawa’s lips and sucks on his tongue, fingers dragging through rivers of sweat on his body as Oikawa gets accustomed to the stretch. 

The tight clench of his body loosens, going slick and silky around Kageyama’s cock. He expects it to get easier then, for his breathing to level back out and to stop feeling like Kageyama is spearing him open. It doesn’t. 

The first real thrust of Kageyama’s cock has Oikawa choking on a groan, eyes rolling behind his lids as his cunt pulses and then clenches tight once more. Kageyama pauses then, rocking into him instead of thrusting through that near painful tightness. He’s good at this. Oikawa hates him.

The moment he relaxes, Kageyama moves again. He drags his cock out of Oikawa’s body and then pushes back into him with the same languid ease. Like this, he hits Oikawa in all the right places, sinking deep into him until the sensation suffuses through his entire body. His scalp and his shoulders against the sheets and the insides of his elbows all go sensitive. Every drag of Kageyama’s cock and press of his fingers has Oikawa gasping and moaning.

Kageyama finds his rhythm, fucking Oikawa in these slow pulses and deep rocks that make him feel like he’s never actually been fucked before. His mouth drags over Oikawa’s body, licking up his sweat and sucking marks into him randomly. Each nip of his teeth is a shock and his tongue serves as an immediate balm for the sharp little pain. His broad, callused hands find their way beneath Oikawa’s body, cupping his shoulder blades and cradling him.

No part of Oikawa is left untouched. And every single bit of him sings for Kageyama.

Tears streak down his cheeks and his cunt spasms as the head of Kageyama’s cock drags against his g-spot. “Fuck,” he mumbles. It’s the only coherent word he’s managed to speak since Kageyama slid inside of him. “Wanna cum.”

Kageyama hums. He curls his arm around Oikawa’s waist, still cradling him and gently tugging him into each push of his cock, while his free hand travels between their bodies. He pets over Oikawa’s belly, down through his matted curls, to press against his cock. The pleasure is so bright compared to the slow, deep desire that Kageyama’s been fucking into him, it takes everything Oikawa has to not scream.

Their mouths meet again. Two, three chaste presses of their lips before Kageyama pulls back. He licks Oikawa’s bottom lip and rolls his thumb over his clit. “Do you want me to cum inside?”

Oikawa can feel the shape of the words against his mouth. The soft, breathless cadence of the question makes him burn. He swallows hard and tries to get his thoughts in order, all while Kageyama fucks him and tweaks at his cock in the perfect rhythm. “I-I, fuck.” The words stutter out of him and then shatter before he can collect them properly.

Kageyama’s hand is spread across his pelvic bone, so hot and massive, and then he’s pushing against where Oikawa knows his cock is filling him up. “I’ll pull out,” Kageyama says, and Oikawa suddenly realizes how close he must be to finishing.

He presses their mouths together, tongue flicking between Oikawa’s lips, and redoubles his efforts to make Oikawa cum. It won’t take long, not with how sensitive Oikawa feels already. Kageyama pushes on his belly again, making Oikawa feel even more full, and something must break in him.

He curls his arms tight around Kageyama’s shoulders, hips bucking into the roll of his thumb. That’s enough to finish him, wetness gushing across the sheets as he shivers and whines shrilly. Kageyama rubs his cock until he’s twisting uselessly underneath him.

Then, he tries to pull away. He unwinds his arm from beneath Oikawa and reaches up to untangle his arms from around his shoulders. Even throbbing through the aftershocks, Oikawa can feel the flex and throb of Kageyama’s cock inside of him. He tightens his hold on the back of Kageyama’s neck and tries to get his tongue under control. “Inside,” he mumbles. “I want it inside.”

“Fuck, Oikawa,” Kageyama bites out. He holds out a little while longer, as if he’s waiting for Oikawa to change his mind, before his hips kick once and he spills inside.

A deep haze drapes over Oikawa then. It keeps him from thinking too much as Kageyama’s cock slips out of him and he levers himself up off the bed. The haze is honey sweet on the back of his tongue, making it easy for him to lay in the middle of his dirty bed and listen to Kageyama stumble around his apartment. He knows that the haze won’t blanket him for long, but he soaks it up while he can, warm and relaxed as he pushes his damp hair out of his face.

Kageyama returns to his bedroom and climbs on the bed. He presses a warm rag between Oikawa’s legs. His cunt is a mess, but Kageyama is gentle as he cleans him up. He scoops his own cum out of Oikawa without so much as a single complaint, and then gives him another once over with the rag to wipe away any last streaks of wetness.

As he leaves to dispose of the rag, Oikawa opens his eyes. He knows that the haze is gone. Confusion and disgust well up inside of him, the feelings too tangled to find the source. He pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes. It doesn’t really help banish the regret, the thoughts of not good enough, the wishes that things were different--the familiar low that occurs anytime something good happens to him. Oikawa figured out shortly after his injury that his highs would never be high enough, again. 

He’s dealt with it ever since. Dealt with it by ignoring his friends, holding coworkers at arms length, never trying for promotions, living alone, and trying to forget he was ever anything other than a mid-level salary worker with no future ahead of him. He’s dealt with it. And now, he’s tired.

Kageyama returns and Oikawa keeps his hands over his eyes, expecting him to put on his clothes and leave. Maybe he’d drop his phone number if he was feeling generous.

Instead, warm hands work the dirty duvet out from under his hips and off the bed. Another blanket unfurls over top of him, fleecy and warm. Oikawa realizes he’s been crying when Kageyama crawls into bed next to him. The blanket is too short, it probably doesn’t even cover Kageyama’s ankles, but he doesn’t complain or ask Oikawa where he can find another one. Oikawa cries harder. He’s just so tired.

Kageyama curls around him. The blanket isn’t big enough, and they both need showers, but the warmth of his skin is more comforting than anything Oikawa can remember. He pushes his face into Kageyama’s chest and wipes stubbornly at his eyes until the tears finally stop.

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice raw around the edges.

Kageyama shrugs and rubs his back. “I don’t know.” They stiffen at the same time. “That’s not what I meant, uh, fuck…” Kageyama rushes to say, and Oikawa laughs. Maybe Kageyama isn’t so different after all. “I mean, I don’t know how we got here. Why I saw you there tonight and decided to talk to you, but…” He trails off again. “But, I’m here right now because, because I care about you.”

Oikawa shakes his head.

“What?” Kageyama says, voice sharp with defensiveness.

Oikawa shakes his head again. “I… I don’t have much left to offer. And, I mean after the injury--”

“Oh, shut up,” Kageyama says. Oikawa scoffs and pushes away from his chest to look up at him. Kageyama’s cheeks are red. “No offense, but right after I confess my feelings for you is not exactly the time to explain why you hate yourself.” An indignant laugh bursts out of Oikawa and he punches Kageyama in the chest. “You might start with rejecting me straight out, if you aren’t, well you know--interested.”

Oikawa laughs again and now Kageyama looks really mad. “I thought that much was obvious, you idiot.” Kageyama blinks at him, and Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m interested in you. I have been since--well that’s of no matter.” He pointedly looks away from Kageyama’s wide eyes. “I just don’t know if I’m really… worth it, anymore.” His eyes are wet again and he tosses an arm over his face to hide it.

“You are.”

Kageyama says it so simply, like there’s no other possibility, like Oikawa has always been worth it and always will be. He says it so plainly, so easily, and Oikawa knows that he believes it. He doesn’t yet know if it’s really true, but he thinks… if Kageyama believes it, it might just be enough.

“Okay,” he whispers. 


End file.
